Dandelions and Shade
by Lyros
Summary: Add an introverted private security officer, an American FSO, and then stir. Mori/OC.
1. Meetings

Dandelions and Shade

Chapter One: Meetings

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Yellow summer wind__  
Sailing over waves of grass,  
Where are you going?

* * *

_

"Excuse me, but could you tell me how long it will be until we land in Tokyo?"

The flight attendant I had flagged down looked at me as if a dung beetle had suddenly appeared under her big toe.

"Due to a strong headwind, our arrival has been slightly delayed," she replied primly, nose slightly upturned so she could peer down it at me, "there are about five hours remaining for this trip."

With that she hurried away before I could ask any more foolish questions. Not that I had intended to ask her anything more, especially since I had been grossed out by the vision of her broad nostrils. Feeling restless and crowded in my tiny business-class seat, I got up to walk around and stretch my legs. The plane was exceedingly large, fifteen seats across, and there was plenty of room to meander as long as you did not mind elderly ladies and little children eyeballing you as you passed. My meandering took me quickly out of business class and into the area where the first class passengers had been seated. Thinking that the air smelled slightly fresher in this much less confined space, I took the opportunity to examine some of the people seated there.

_Wish I could have come over on the Ambassador's plane when he left for Japan, _I thought miserably. _Would have been crammed in just as tight then, but at least I'd have known some of the people. Ugh, these rich folks are even worse than that flight attendant._

The first person I passed was an elderly woman dressed in an elaborate pink kimono that even my untrained eyes could tell had been made to suit a much younger person. If the flight attendant had thought I was a beetle, I found myself demoted to amoeba in this aged lady's presence. I sauntered past, careful not to alter my pace in the slightest, and caught sight of someone's head and shoulders poking out over the top of one of the seats. Now in business class having your neck sticking out over the headrest is commonplace, but in the fancy seats, it's quite a feat. The figure I saw was definitely male, with his hair gelled into tiny black spikes that stood up in a dark forest on the top of his head. He was a broad-shouldered fellow, built heavily in addition to his imposing height. His black suit appeared to cost more than the sum retail price of my own wardrobe, and none of the seats around him were occupied (presumably to accommodate his exceedingly long legs).

_Basketball player. _I labeled him without hesitation, perhaps unfairly, but he really did look like a power forward dressed up to go among normal people. He had a strange way of sitting with his body completely relaxed while still managing to seem like he could spring up into the air at any moment. Slowly, deliberately he turned his neck and looked directly at me with gray eyes, and I spooked. In retrospect, his expression probably was neither threatening nor particularly frightening, but I was so wound up by the plane ride that it seemed like he meant to eviscerate me for the offense of staring at him. I dashed back to my seat, buckled my belt, and did not move from that spot until the plane landed.

Fortunately for me, my baggage had traveled separately, so once on the ground all I had to do was locate the friend who had agreed ahead of time to meet me. Still slightly dazed from the flight, I took several minutes to find the woman I was looking for, and in the end, it was really she who found me.

"Liam-san!"

My contact held a large piece of poster-board elegantly painted with my three names: "Ri-a-mu A-sa Be-ri" in massive red katakana. Minoru was a petite woman with very straight black hair that fell forward over both shoulders and halfway down her back. She had dressed conservatively in a rose-pink sweater and brown skirt, but I noticed instantly that her clothing had gotten an extreme upgrade in quality since I had known her as an exchange student in the States. Since a possibly lucrative matrimony had not been mentioned in any of Minoru's e-mails, I determined that her dress was not the proper subject for that particular moment. She would, however, have some explaining to do in the near future.

Shouldering my carry-on, I dashed up to her with an enormous grin on my face threatening to split it crosswise. "Minoru-san!" I paused briefly to bow, but she made a disgusted noise and pulled me forward into a warm hug.

"It's only been a few months, but it feels like forever!" she told me as I gently pulled free of her grasp. "Couldn't you have made it here sooner?"

"Ambassador Robertson needed to leave early, so a lot of us staffers got left behind," I temporized as she took me by the arm and led me toward an exit. "I'm just a low-level aide, so I wasn't part of the core group he decided to take with him. I've actually only met the man once, when I got the job."

I tried not to hang my head shamefully, but Minoru sensed my disappointment anyway, her powers of perception barely dulled by our short separation.

"You'll just have to make yourself indispensable then," she said reassuringly, "and you know you can always come to stay with me if you need to."

I lifted an eyebrow at that, but was unable to elicit any explanations from her the entire time spent moving through Customs and out to the taxi that would take me to my new domicile. Minoru slid into the taxi with me and gave me a discerning look as I explained the complex address to the driver.

"Something's bothering you," she pointed out as I leaned back against the indifferently cushioned interior.

"It's nothing," I replied, but she would not be deterred.

"Don't try to put me off." She sidled closer and whispered, "Is it about a man?"

I had to laugh. "Yeah, but not in the way you mean. You know, that innocent mind of yours matches your maidenly image perfectly.

"Ha ha, how droll. We aren't going to talk about anything else until you tell me what's wrong, so you may as well get to it before you embarrass yourself worse than you already have."

Minoru had fit in well in America. "It really is nothing," I insisted, but went on before she could protest again. "There was some kind of sports star on the plane. Really tall and good-looking, but I guess not famous enough to have his own jet or something."

Her brown eyes pinned me to the interior of the car with a look. "Huh, tall and good-looking. Where have I heard that before? You didn't stare did you? I always thought that was a creepy habit. I mean, you're a guy and all, so I guess I can't expect much, but try to learn some self-control. You'd better not do any of that while you're on the job here."

Super Best Friend Gut Punch go! Ouch. "No, I wasn't staring. I just sort of—peeked, you know. Only he turned around like he knew I was there and just well—looked at me. Didn't say or do anything, but he scared me into next week all the same."

Then Minoru's face grew thoughtful. "Silent and scary and big. Sounds a lot like one of my fiancé's friends." She turned bright red. "I wasn't going to tell you until after you'd gotten settled in!"

Ah-hah! A chance to seize the moral high ground! "You got engaged without even telling me! How could you, Minoru?"

Clearly uncomfortable, the driver very pointedly closed the sound barrier once the topic of marriage came up. Minoru looked cutely sheepish.

"It's so old-fashioned. Our parents were friends, so they had us betrothed before either of us could even walk. I wasn't very happy about it when I found out. That's part of why I went away to school in America." Her cheeks flushed several shades darker. "When I got back and really got to know him, we hit it off. Four years really does make a difference with men, doesn't it?"

I noticed that she still did not provide the man's name, but I decided not to press the issue. The rest of the trip was uneventful, and after our expert driver had successfully navigated the crowded streets of Tokyo, I arrived at the hotel I would be staying at until I obtained more permanent lodgings. Minoru helped me carry what little luggage I had brought with me and we shared a glass of wine before she left me, saying,

"We can start talking about the wedding plans once you get used to the city, okay?"

I reassured her that this was fine and set about unpacking. There wasn't much in my suitcase, just some toiletries and a few suits, so the process didn't take long. One item stood out from the rest: a small, locked case engraved with Ambassador Robertson's personal seal. This I put carefully into my breast pocket before I did anything else. After that, it was a matter of minutes arranging my few belongings. As I plunked my toothbrush into the glass provided by the hotel staff, I heard a loud knock at the door. A quick glance at my watch showed that the time was one o'clock, still an hour before my first meeting with the ambassador. Who could be at the door then? A vague feeling of dread attached to me as I peered through the peephole. Whoever my visitor was, he was standing very near the door, because I could only see a close-up of his tie. Reluctantly I pulled the door open and looked up, and up, and up at the man who stood there.

"Bailey-san?"

I let out a brief, relieved sigh as I took in the man's features. He was tall, yes, but lean rather than bulkily muscular. He wore a brown suit and a solid red tie. Not, then, the man I had seen on the plane.

"I am he," I replied in my best formal Japanese. The man glanced at a small piece of paper he held—a photograph of me—and nodded.

"Excellent. I am Yoshi Nakamura, executive officer of Shirahadori, the private security organization your employer has hired to protect his family and staff. I have come to meet you in person, and to escort you to your appointment with Ambassador Robertson. Are you prepared?"

One look down at myself showed a suit still rumpled from sitting crammed into a too-small space, and I recalled from my reflection in the bathroom mirror that my hair really needed to feel the touch of a comb. I didn't get my job without being quick on my feet, though. "I am pleased to meet you, Nakamura-kun; however I must request that you grant me a few moments before we depart. Perhaps you will allow me to examine your credentials while I am changing?"

Nodding as if this was to be expected, Nakamura produced a thick sheaf of papers which he then transferred to my hand. Firmly closing the door in his face, I turned back to look at my open suitcase. There had, of course, been no time to take any of the garments there to be dry-cleaned, so I chose the least wrinkled of the lot and whipped it on as quickly as I could. The information the bodyguard had provided appeared to be legitimate, bearing the seals of more political officials than I cared to think about. I applied a comb to my recalcitrant yellow hair and brushed my teeth before confronting Nakamura once again. He accepted the papers without comment and turned to walk toward the elevator. I followed, still slightly unsure of the situation.

"I hope you will pardon me," I said hesitantly as we stepped into the lift and Nakamura depressed the button that would take us to the lobby, "but isn't it a bit unusual for the second-in-command to personally escort a minor aide like myself?"

He smiled without showing any teeth, and if he meant it to be reassuring, he failed mightily in his effort. "The situation is unusual. You have not been informed of the threats made on the ambassador's person?"

Of course I hadn't been! "I was aware that Mr. Robertson needed to return to Japan quite suddenly, but beyond that, no." And oh how it burned to have to admit that!

"The two matters seem at the moment to be unrelated. One week ago, the ambassador began to receive anonymous electronic mail threatening his personal safety and that of his two children. The contents of these messages lead us to believe that the perpetrators may target those who work for the ambassador. Shirahadori is working in conjunction with the Self-Defense Force to keep your employer and coworkers from coming to any harm, and as part of this initiative, a member of our company will accompany you at all times.

Wondering vaguely how I was supposed to take an organization with such a fanciful name seriously, I followed Nakamura out into the lobby. Together we left the building and walked up to a small, green sedan, where I hesitated. "I intended to take a train to the embassy."

"That will be impossible, Bailey-san. Please enter the car now, or we will be unable to meet your appointment with the ambassador."

The car door swung wide, and the stocky blond woman inside leered out through the gap. "Get your ass in here Bailey! I'll have to drive like a mad woman to get us to the office as it is!"

"Sara-Beth!" I gushed, and sprang into the passenger seat before Nakamura could secure it. Throwing my arms around Sara-Beth's bulk, I hugged her as tightly as I could. "What on earth is going on?"

"Tough to tell just now," she replied as she peeled me off of her and pointed imperiously at the seatbelt. "Put that on, hon."

Grumbling, I complied, and the belt snapped into place with a satisfying click. "No offense, but I don't want your army friends following me around wherever I go. This can't really be necessary, can it?"

"It sure is! If it helps any, Kenneth is in a right state about it. Got no choice but to hang around, but I thought he might pitch a loafer at me yesterday while I was on duty, he got so angry."

Sara-Beth Holton was a permanent fixture of Ambassador Robertson's (Kenneth's) staff. An expert in tactics formerly of the U.S. Army, she went everywhere with Mr. Robertson and his family. Hailing from my own hometown of Houston, she shared my love of Tex-Mex cuisine and lovingly maintained her dense Texan accent. She was exactly the person I wanted to see after my encounter with the Shirahadori operative.

"Yoshi, whatever you said put the fear of the Lord in the poor boy," she admonished as Nakamura slid into the car and perched on the seat behind her. I watched the man in the rear-view mirror, and a faint look of long-suffering crossed his face before it hardened back into bland, professional disinterest.

"Holton-san, I believe you know the correct route to the United States Embassy," he said in very correct, chilly tones. Sara-Beth just laughed and put the car in gear.

~*~

Smooth leather met his fingers as he ran them along the black cushion that lay beneath him. The sharp, not entirely pleasant scent of new furniture filled the interior of his family's limousine, tempered by the relatively fresh air that flowed in from the city via air vents in the wall. A long corridor and a bar containing five rows of liquor and beer separated him from the driver, but a touch pad in each armrest ensured that a passenger could communicate with the man if it became necessary. The view that scrolled past in the window did not excite him: alternating small, garish shops and high-rise office buildings as the limo plowed through the various districts of Tokyo. However, the sights were familiar, and he decided that it was good to be coming home.

"Morinozuka-sama, we will be arriving in seventeen minutes."

The driver's voice came clearly from a speaker at Morinozuka's elbow, and he nodded to show approval. Closing his eyes briefly, he began to draw in deep, slow breaths and expel them rhythmically. A man of phlegmatic disposition, he nonetheless needed to prepare for the upcoming meeting. Outside, the scenery transitioned from a cityscape to a more subdued, suburban environment. Huge houses large enough to be called castles rose up behind tightly controlled avenues of trees, none quite like any other, yet still contributing to an overall picture of conformity.

When exactly seventeen minutes had passed, the limousine rolled to a stop, and Takashi lingered for a moment within the chilly confines of the vehicle. Gathering his thoughts and sealing them behind an impassive mask, he stepped out and blinked in the late morning sunlight. A massive structure of painted white and black wood greeted him when he succeeded in clearing away the glare. The impression that the Morinozuka family residence gave was one of austerity, submitting neither to frivolous decoration nor soft comfort. This was a house that was meant to be used.

Several strides of his long legs took him past the short wooden wall that encircled the house and up to the front entrance. Gathering himself, he slid the wood frame door open and ducked low under the lintel. A familiar ambivalence struck him as he stepped inside. Crafted to suit men of unusually long frames, Morinozuka House had higher ceilings than most Edo-era dwellings, but Takashi was tall even for one of his family. His mixed emotions stemmed from memories of a time when he had not needed to slump to enter his father's house. Those memories conflicted with the relief that came with the abatement of homesickness.

He had only a moment to consider his feelings before another door further in banged open and a bright ball of energy and excitement bounced off of a short landing to collide with his midsection.

"Taka-chan!"

"Mitsukuni."

The ball coalesced into the figure of a little man with honey-blond hair and a cheerful disposition. Maintaining a solid grip on his sudden burden with one arm, he bent and removed his shoes and made appropriate noises in response to the torrent of speech that flowed forth.

"It's been so lonely without you here Takashi! Next time you decide to go travel the world, take me with you, or I'll sic Usa-chan on you! What do you want to eat? There's tea and cake set out in the dining hall back at my house, but maybe you want to eat here with your family. Your parents aren't home just yet, but Satoshi is here somewhere, should I go get him?"

"Hey bro."

Sliding his feet into the largest pair of house slippers, Takashi stepped up onto the landing and peered past Mitsukuni's shoulder to look at the young man who stood in the doorway. Leaning against the frame with a sardonic smirk was his younger brother; the one Mitsukuni had called Satoshi. He wore an absurd American baseball cap slanted backward over his scalp, khaki pants that ballooned out around his shins, and an ill-used gray suit jacket.

"Mother and Father said to go ahead and take care of your business if you need to. They're away visiting the emperor's family, so they won't be back until tonight. How were the States?"

He fell in beside Takashi and they walked together in the direction of the kitchens, where Takashi hoped to find something to eat besides tea and cake.

"The new District of Columbia branch is performing well in its first year," Takashi said in answer to his brother's question. One corner of Satoshi's generous mouth drooped as his smirk deepened.

"Aw, you mean you didn't even do a tiny bit of sightseeing? You better have brought me a souvenir!"

Takashi rearranged Mitsukuni's weight and withdrew a small package from the one of his suit pockets. "Here."

Snatching the package away nimbly, Satoshi tore the thin layer of wrapping paper and pitched the attached card over his shoulder. Inside the little box he found a black cap with white lettering emblazoned across the front.

"No way, F.B.I.! Thanks bro!"

Satoshi's smirk disappeared as he replaced his old cap with the new one and grinned in genuine appreciation.

"Where is Yasuchika?" Takashi queried.

"In the meditation room. Why, do you want him for something?"

"Chika-chan's in a bad mood."

Takashi let go as Mitsukuni pressed both small hands against his chest, pushed off, and landed easily on the smooth bamboo floor. "I told Satoshi not to bother him. He's still a little angry that I gave up the dojo."

Knowing better than to press for more information about that subject, Takashi went into the kitchen and persuaded the cook to allow him some rice and vegetables. Satoshi and Mitsukuni chatted away amiably as he ate, relieving him entirely of the need to make any conversation himself. An elderly tanuki climbed into his lap about halfway through the meal, so he fed the little creature some carrots and tickled his belly.

_It's nice to be around people who don't stare when they're speaking to you._

Despite the early hour, the fried vegetables were excellent, and Takashi allowed himself a satisfied sigh when he had finished. The two other men peered curiously at him as he stood up, deposited a dismayed tanuki on the floor, and headed back toward the entrance.

"What, you aren't staying?"

Satoshi followed him again. The tanuki clung to his pants leg with determined fury and glared accusingly up at Takashi.

"No."

"Why not? I know you're busy, but you just got off a nine hour flight!"

Takashi nodded, but gave no other reply. Instead he stepped out of his slippers and commenced tying his shoes.

"You're going to see Ambassador Robertson, right? I'll go with you," suggested Mitsukuni, trailing into the antechamber behind Satoshi.

"That won't be necessary."

To preclude any further conversation, Takashi withdrew his mobile phone from a pocket, entered a number, and put it to his ear. "Nakamura-kun, did the ambassador's aide make it safely to his hotel?"

"_He did,"_ came his executive officer's voice, slightly tinny in the cell's speaker, _"Holton-san and I are escorting him to the embassy as we speak."_

"Good."

He loved his brother and his cousin, but the true reason he had asked the limousine's driver to transport him here lay in a compact garage at the side of the manse. Withdrawing a single key from its place in his pants pocket, he yanked the garage door open with a swing of his arm and stood back. A vision of beauty in silver greeted him.

_Ah…_

To call Takashi's Mercedes a car was to call a hurricane a drizzle. Flashing metallically in the sunlight that trickled in through heavy storm windows, the vehicle was slightly longer than others of its make. When he had unlocked the door and stepped inside, he found plenty of leg room and a wheel that left enough clearance that he did not bang his knees against it as he slid inside. Silently blessing Mitsukuni for this gift, he adjusted all of mirrors and turned his key in the ignition. After a quick tweak of the red Blodia model that dangled from the rear-view mirror, he backed out of the garage and set out back the way he had come.

The engine hummed pleasantly as he drove, emitting neither the obscene roar of the massive SUV he had used while in America, nor the eerie quiet of a Shirahadori company vehicle. Once he had to swerve to avoid an errant delivery truck that ventured into his lane, but his journey to the embassy was otherwise unimpeded. Two men met him at the entrance, one in the heavily padded black uniform of an SDF officer, the other wearing a serviceable smoke-gray suit and blue tie.

"Identify yourself," demanded the first man. He was the larger of the two, and kept his voice unnaturally gruff, presumably to mask the fact that it was rather high in pitch. Takashi relinquished his photo ID without comment, maintaining a stony expression as he watched the officer. It took only a moment for the man to recognize the name on the card.

"Morinozuka-sama! Forgive me!" He prostrated himself on the tile floor, attracting the attention of every man and woman working in the lobby.

"Sorry Commander," said the second man. He bent down beside the SDF officer and hauled him up by the arm. "It's just regulations, Shinohara. Mori understands. Come on, get up. There you go."

Takashi's memory attached a name to the round face of the Shirahadori agent: Masanori Hiba. "Hiba-kun, inform the ambassador that I've arrived."

The agent nodded and let go of his dazed companion. "Let him know as soon as we saw you pull up in that beauty." He jerked a thumb toward the spot where Takashi had left his key in the hands of a valet. "How is Momo-hime anyway?"

Being a relatively old hand as far as the company was concerned, Hiba was neither surprised nor offended when Takashi ignored his quip and plunged forward in the direction of the ambassador's office. He helped Shinohara dust off the padding that lined his forearms.

"Don't worry about it. Mori doesn't offend easily. Just in case though, you should probably buy the drinks tonight."

Takashi passed through several more checkpoints on his way to meet with Robertson, presented his identification at each, and went through without further incident. Twenty minutes later he stood in front of a pair of sliding translucent doors that looked fragile but which were actually dense safety glass. They parted as he approached.

"Good afternoon Commander, we have been expecting you."

A middle-aged American woman with brown hair streaked with gray stood up from her desk as he entered and gestured toward a heavy oak door a few paces away. "Please, go inside. The ambassador is eager to see you again."

With a faint bow of acknowledgment, Takashi passed beyond the secretary and pushed through into the inner office, nodding to the two large Shirahadori agents who stood at either side of the entrance. Once inside, he heard the one-sided conversation of a man speaking into a telephone.

"…make sure that Ms. Spaccarelli lands safely back home. Yes, I have a copy of her resignation here on my desk. Yes? Yes. You must excuse me Daniel, the commanding officer of Shirahadori has arrived. I will appreciate anything you can do to ease Ms. Spaccarelli's departure."

Takashi stood waiting as the man finished and pushed the end call button on his cell phone with an air of finality.

"Commander, welcome to the United States Embassy. I trust you did not have too difficult a time getting through security? Please, take the chair nearest you, we have much to discuss."

Takashi took a moment to examine the ambassador as he settled into the proffered chair. Kenneth Robertson was not precisely an old man, but certainly no longer young. Though most of his red hair remained on his head, it showed definite signs of thinning as well as the delicate touch of a stylist's dye. He was in excellent shape physically, though he bore the ubiquitous paunch that struck most men in their middle years. He wore a fine, black silk suit with a collared white shirt beneath it and a black tie bearing various sayings of well-wishing in white kanji across its front. Takashi's trained eye noted the smudge of concealer beneath the rim of each eyelid, added to mask the dark circles he knew were also there. A fine ginger moustache covered the ambassador's upper lip, though he kept his chin clean-shaven.

"I am pleased to see you once again. Your organization has done excellent work in the time since I and my team have returned to the islands."

The ambassador's voice was a pleasant baritone, even and measured. He pressed his forearms against the massive oak desk that separated him from Takashi and leaned forward. "I need to speak with you concerning the terms of our agreement."

If this gesture was intended to intimidate, it failed utterly. Takashi merely crossed one leg over the other and looked blandly across the desk at his client.

"We spoke at length concerning the terms back in Washington, Ambassador."

"Of course," Robertson said quickly, "and I assure you, I am quite pleased with the competence and discretion your men have shown. I called you here primarily to discuss the two bodyguards your executive officer has assigned to escort me. Must they hover outside my office door constantly? Surely I am safe within the walls of my own nation's embassy."

Takashi might have said many things in response to the ambassador's assertion. He might have stated that Robertson was actually in the most danger while he was here, that the embassy was the most obvious target, that he should be grateful that he had been allowed to move from place at all without a small army to accompany him. He said none of this. Instead, he said, "The day watch is necessary."

He spoke with the implacable manner of a man who tells simple truth, and the ambassador quickly deflated.

"Yes, of course. I see."

He turned his attention down to the digital clipboard that lay flat atop his desk. "One of my aides will be arriving in the next few minutes. He is a relatively new employee; I recruited him straight out of his undergraduate program just a few months ago. I would appreciate it if you would help me to screen him now, if you have the time."

Takashi did not have the time, but he nodded anyway and stood. Robertson waved toward a seat that stood in a spot beside far wall where it and its occupant would be hidden by the heavy door while it was open. "You will know how to make yourself inconspicuous."

So the young commander of Shirahadori folded his long frame into the tiny seat and became invisible.

~*~

To my disappointment, Sara-Beth did not stay with us as Nakamura escorted me into the U.S. Embassy. Instead she drove away, leaving me to trail along in the grim bodyguard's wake as he led the way into the imposing building. He spoke with a pair of men at the doors for a few minutes before waving me through. Once we were both inside, he walked briskly over to the service desk and began issuing commands to the harried-looking woman who stood there.

"Yoshi Nakamura and Liam Bailey to see the ambassador."

The woman smiled wanly and peeked at her computer before returning her eyes to Nakamura's forbidding visage. "Of course, Mr. Nakamura. Will Mr. Bailey require a temporary pass?"

"That is correct."

While waiting for Nakamura to secure a temporary pass, I inspected the large, open room we stood in. Though I had been working for Ambassador Robertson for over four months, this was the first time I had been to Japan in my official capacity as an FSO, and I was eager to absorb everything I could about the embassy premises. The lobby was a tall chamber with white concrete walls softened by tapestries and photographs done in a mixture of Eastern and Western styles. The smiling faces of former diplomats and Japanese politicians friendly to American interests peered out from between pieces of artwork. As I was inspecting the regrettable smile of an older man kneeling with his hands on the shoulders of two small children, Nakamura finished his business with the secretary and materialized behind me. He held a plastic cord stretched between his hands, a laminated card marked "VISITOR" dangling from one end. I took it and hung the thing around my neck.

"This way."

I lost track of the way after the fourth elevator we mounted, and given the circuitous route Nakamura was taking, I now understood his haste in bringing me from the hotel. It seemed like the guards posted at each checkpoint needed to check with every other guard in the building, and I soon began to feel completely dazed. By the time I finally recognized someone—the gray-haired Mia, Mr. Robertson's secretary—the better part of an hour had passed, and I really was late for my meeting. Mia greeted our arrival with a stern, though not unpleasant, expression. Trying and failing to hide a series of gestures from Nakamura, she might have been trying to tell me something, but I didn't get the message. Eventually we reached the door, and she had to push it inward to let me go through. Nakamura stepped back; apparently I was to be allowed inside alone.

"Mr. Bailey! So glad you've made it safely."

The ambassador was on his feet at the far side of his desk when I came into the office. He swept across the short space between us and beamed up at me, his red moustache wiggling as he spoke.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Ambassador. The plane trip took much longer than I anticipated."

He waved the apology away with a pale hand and reached up with the other to take hold of my shoulder. "Not to worry, not to worry. I'm just pleased to see you've arrived. Life around here has been somewhat hectic lately, and I can certainly use your assistance."

The ambassador's talent for understatement was showing. It was difficult to inspect his face from where I stood, but I could see that he had aged in the brief month since I had last spoken with him in Washington. Though he smiled, the frown lines in his forehead seemed deeper, and he was definitely losing weight.

"The personnel files you requested are on an encrypted flash drive, sir," I told him as he directed me to sit down in the chair directly opposite his desk. The door swung shut behind me, and the ambassador sat heavily in his comfortable leather computer chair.

"Very good," he replied tiredly. I blinked. The jovial Bostonian gentleman I knew fell away, leaving behind a very weary and old man. "Your former supervisor, Nancy Spaccarelli, neglected to bring them. I say "former" because Ms. Spaccarelli has since left my employ on account of the current unstable state of affairs. As such, despite your inexperience, you are now my senior aide. Congratulations, Liam."

It was a serious effort not to gape at him. I knew Nancy as a slightly irritating boss with a tendency toward micro-management, but nothing in my memory of her suggested that she would run out in a crisis. Still trying to assimilate the information, I smiled instead and reached into my pocket, withdrawing the aforementioned flash drive. The ambassador accepted it with an expressive nod and set the case beside his empty coffee mug.

"I take that to mean you accept the promotion," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes sir."

"Excellent. Nakamura-kun has brought you up to date on the recent happenings then?"

_Tread carefully. _"He described the situation on the drive here. Forgive me, Ambassador, but are you all right? I don't mean to be solicitous, but if I'm to serve in Nancy's place, I need to…"

He interrupted, "You need to know if I am taking care of myself, yes, of course. At least you understand your duties. To answer to your question, I am well enough. My options for physical exercise are somewhat limited for obvious reasons, and I have not slept the night through in days, but these are not issues you can assist me with. What you can do is pull out that little cell phone I've seen you wandering around with and help me arrange this week's schedule."

As I complied, I noticed a faint hint of movement at the corner of my eye, just within the field of my peripheral vision. I had already made several entries in the ambassador's calendar when I realized that the motion had been the shifting leg of another person. Berating myself for not noticing the man, I turned my head just slightly to the left and split my attention partially away from the stream of directives coming from the ambassador. Gradually a figure seated next to the door came into focus, but my mind shrank away from recognition.

_God, please give me my balls back._

"Liam, are you listening?"

I jerked guiltily as the ambassador frowned over his desk at me. "Yes sir! Lunch with Representative Kawamura on Wednesday."

"Well enough." He gathered up a stack of papers and straightened them against the tabletop as he continued, "I see that you have noticed Commander Morinozuka. He is Nakamura's superior officer, and therefore responsible for the protection of my staff, including you."

Desperately I tried to keep my body from reacting, but long training in etiquette forced me up from my seat. Turning woodenly, I looked upon the perfectly tanned face of Commander Takashi Morinozuka.

"H-hello, Commander."

Even training couldn't keep the quaver out of my voice as I recognized the man who had caught me checking him out on the airplane.

_I'm so dead._

* * *

A/N: I've done some rearranging (hopefully that will make it more readable). This first chapter is now much longer than any of the later ones, but I hope you'll bear with me. I've got a few new characters to introduce, and the old ones have changed a bit in eight years. Thanks for reading!


	2. Greetings

Chapter Two: Greetings

_

* * *

Frigid river of winter,  
Please take your hand off my heart.

* * *

_

Hello, my name is Liam Bailey, it's very nice to meet you! I am twenty two years old, one hundred and eighty-six centimeters tall, my blood type is B negative, and my hair is blond. I enjoy karaoke and dancing, and my favorite food is Japanese beef pots. When last you left me, I was busy fearing for my life in the office of my employer, the U.S. ambassador plenipotentiary to Japan.

"The two of you will be working quite closely for the interim, so I hope you will get along well."

Ambassador Robertson's voice seemed to come from very far away. Scrabbling for some semblance of equilibrium, I tried to duck my head as I bowed, but pure fascination kept me from doing so. Chin resting on one hand, the CO of Shirahadori gazed back at me as I craned my neck up to observe him. Then he stood up. And up. He bowed, but that only served to emphasize the fact that he loomed over me like a tree over a sapling. How had the man gotten so large? His eyes were like a pair of fresh coals, gray and cold. His hair was as I remembered it from the plane, black and spiky, and though he still wore the tailored suit, it bore none of the wrinkles that marked my own off-the-rack number.

"So Commander," came Robertson's surreal voice, "does Mr. Bailey pass muster?"

Morinozuka unbent, allowing me to follow suit. If the obscure American idiom bothered him in any way, his neutral expression did not show it.

"This man poses no danger to you or any other among your staff," he concluded in a clinical tone. Not the most polite or flattering description, but it was true enough. The ambassador clapped his hands gently, and his usual affable self returned.

"I am sure you have a full schedule, and I appreciate your taking time away from it to assist me. Please, don't let me keep you from your business any longer."

I dredged my voice up from somewhere in my stomach. "I'll set up a meeting to discuss embassy events, if that would be agreeable."

The big man nodded and left the room, and my breathing returned to normal.

"The commander has quite a presence, wouldn't you say?" Robertson queried as I sat back down.

"He's a little frightening at first glance," I admitted.

"I apologize for springing him on you like that, but if you had known he would be here ahead of time, you might have altered your behavior, and that would not have suited my purposes. Now, about that lunch meeting with Kawamura, I believe he enjoys French cuisine. Find a suitable place, will you?"

The next few days continued pretty much in this vein (minus the heart-stopping terror). My job as the ambassador's personal assistant was not onerous, but it did have a few hurdles I had never prepared for. Men and women who had treated me like a favorite pet when I was just a junior aide whispered behind my back when I passed and glared at me when they thought I couldn't see them.

"They're just mad because they think you'll try to order them around," Minoru assured me over tea one chilly October afternoon, when I had mentioned my fears on this subject. Evidently she had forgotten her promise to discuss her marriage plans, because she had been avoiding the subject through the entire conversation up to this point. Holding her cup with both delicate hands, she took a sip of her beverage before continuing. "It's a little different here at home, but back in the States it seemed like personal assistants stood outside of the normal hierarchy. In one sense, you've hardly gained any status at all, since pretty much everyone in the embassy still outranks you officially."

"Thanks so much."

"Just trying to be realistic. Anyway, like I was saying, they outrank you _officially._ You have control of the ambassador's schedule, access to a lot of his inner thoughts. These people are envious, and do you really blame them? You landed an incredible opportunity, so just act properly humble and grateful and everything will be fine."

"Everything will not be fine!" I protested. "The man I told you about, the tall one from the plane, he's the CO for one of the private military companies Ambassador Robertson hired."

Something flickered in Minoru's eyes, but whatever it was, it was gone before I could place the emotion. "Yes, Commander Morinozuka. I met him a few times at Ouran Academy."

There seemed to be more, so I waited. This time embarrassment was obvious from the way she flushed. "At the Host Club."

I managed not to snort my tea out through my nose, but only barely. "The real-life Rentboy! Yeah, you mentioned it, but I _thought _you never went."

"Don't look at me like that! Megumi made me go a few times, to see—never mind. Mori's quiet, but the members of his family have been bodyguards for generations. He'll keep your ambassador's head on his shoulders, or no one can."

Wondering what had made her cut off mid-sentence, I steered the conversation toward lighter topics.

* * *

A/N: If you happen to have read this story in its previous format, you can now find the part that precedes this one at the end of Chapter One. Thanks for reading!


	3. Clash

Chapter Three: Clash

* * *

_The kingfisher dives,  
Skimming across the river.  
Fish are delicious.

* * *

_

"Finally!"

Takashi looked up from the minuscule netbook that sat in his lap and beheld a buxom American woman with shoulder-length blond curls and a handgun holstered at her hip. He stood up immediately as she entered the hotel suite that had become a temporary headquarters for the men and women employed to protect Ambassador Robertson. She flashed a girlish smile at him as she sweatily bore a large paper bag inside. "I found a place that makes a halfway decent taco! Never thought I'd miss Pancho's this much overseas, but there it is. Oh, hey there Commander."

While uttering these arcane phrases she plopped down in a chair across from Takashi and deposited her burden perilously close to his computer. Bemused, Takashi looked over to Nakamura, who perched on the edge of a twin bed and shrugged, leaving the greetings to Takashi.

"Hello again, Holton-kun."

"Same to ya!" she replied, unwrapping a packet of wax paper and releasing a savory smell into the room. "Want one?"

Takashi declined politely and returned to his seat.

"Is that the guard schedule you've been gaping at? We've been trying not to get into too much of a routine, but those SDF guys have been fighting us every step of the way. You'd think those boys'd learn their lesson after I turn out right a few times, but I guess they don't like taking advice from a lady, much less orders."

"You are unfailingly honest as always," Nakamura put in. His long, thin fingers clattered dexterously away at the keys of his own laptop.

"Kenneth don't pay me to give 'im the runaround," was Sara-Beth's reply. She bit into her taco and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. Takashi decided to intercede; the guard rotations were giving him a squint anyway.

"I will bring the matter to Lieutenant Arai's attention."

"Do that."

They continued in crunchy silence for a few moments while Sara-Beth chewed her next bite. She looked meaningly at Takashi, but when he did not respond to her tacit suggestion, she spoke again.

"S'pose you're too polite to wonder why I came to you instead of goin' to Arai direct-like."

This was actually true, but Takashi allowed the woman her sarcasm.

"I checked up on you before I let Kenneth hire you out," Sara-Beth explained. "I know all about that so-called Host Club. That is what they call it, right? Well, I figured you'd know how to deal with a lady better than Lieutenant Stuffed Shirt, so here I am. You need to talk to anyone on my team, you can go through me."

Since the woman had mentioned his high school career, Takashi's answer was a signature Host Club smile. Sara-Beth Holton was not a woman given to swooning, but she came very near to it then. She dropped her taco, so Takashi picked it up and replaced it in her hand.

"Whew, didn't know they made 'em that pretty here," she mumbled.

"Commander, your appointment with the ambassador's aide is in half an hour," Nakamura prompted. Takashi closed his tiny computer with a snap and exited, ignoring his XO's poorly hidden grin.

The ambassador's aide was already on his feet when Takashi arrived at his desk. Someone had dragged in an oak monstrosity of a work desk (not unlike his employer's) and set it in place across from the graying secretary's station. Even standing, Liam Bailey was entirely dwarfed by his new piece of furniture, and he seemed well aware of it. He smiled, but it was the mechanical, disingenuous expression Takashi had learned to think of as the "diplomat's grin." He held a large, touch-operated cell phone in one hand.

"My regards, Commander," said the American in very precise Japanese, accompanying the words with a well measured bow. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me so soon. I realize you have only just returned from your business abroad."

Takashi returned the bow in kind, but neither of them made any move to sit down. Liam tapped the face of his phone several times as he navigated to a different menu.

"I hope to keep this consultation as brief as possible, so I will simply run through the list of requests Ambassador Robertson has asked me to pass on to you. Firstly, he wishes to reiterate his request that you relax your stance pertaining to the round-the-clock guard."

Takashi experienced a brief bout of irritation. _Diplomats._ "Please inform the ambassador that it is in his best interest to comply with the standards set out in our agreement. If he wishes to sever his contract with Shirahadori…"

Liam flushed and shook his head fervently. "No, that was not his intent. Let's move on to the next item." He glanced down and read, "Some of the embassy employees wish to complain about unnecessarily invasive searches conducted by Shirahadori personnel during the past two weeks."

"Please elaborate."

As the younger man struggled to find an acceptable way to rephrase his statement, the merest hint of a smile tugged at the edges of Takashi's mouth.

"We feel that it would be more polite to inform the employees ahead of time, so they will not be disturbed from their normal day's work."

"My men have done nothing outside of Shirahadori protocols," Takashi replied, before Liam could flounder any further. "If the ambassador wishes to renegotiate our agreement to include any new stipulations, the company will require an additional fee."

Liam's artificial smile hardened and his hitherto immaculate control of language slipped. "You can't do that."

The middle-aged secretary, who had been quite obviously eavesdropping since the beginning of this conversation, gasped at Liam's tone. Takashi simply glanced down from his vastly superior height and looked menacing. In a few moments, the blond-headed American backed down.

"It's in the contract, so of course you are entitled to do as you see fit. I apologize for speaking out of turn."

Takashi took pity on him. "There will be no issue. Nakamura and his team completed their last checks this past Friday. Periodic drop-ins will still be required, but not at the same level."

Liam made a noble effort to hide his relief. He failed, but Takashi politely did not draw attention to this fact.

"There is just one more matter I need to ask you about. Our technical staff has added another layer of encryption to all official documents, and they need to know if they should clear the programming with your company."

Takashi considered this while he examined Liam's eyes. They were a very particular shade of blue: pale as chicory petals, and betrayed every flicker of emotion he attempted to conceal. Right then mortification warred with suppressed fury. "That will not be necessary, but we will still need access to all correspondence passing in or out of the embassy."

"Yes, I understand. That is all I needed to bring to your attention."

Liam dropped his gaze from Takashi and bent to examine his phone with unnecessary intensity. Recognizing the dismissal, Takashi turned and exited the room, though not before catching sight of the secretary watching him in what she must have thought was a surreptitious way. He winked at her as he departed.

* * *

A/N: I'm assuming that Arai is his surname. If anyone knows differently, I will be happy to change it. Thanks for reading!


	4. Method

Chapter Four: Method

* * *

_Demon-faced man, step lightly;  
Tread not upon the flowers.

* * *

_

"Mori here."

"_Cancel your appointment with Lieutenant Arai and come to my office. There is a matter I wish to discuss."_

The voice that came from Takashi's earpiece was a pleasant baritone, but the words held a peremptory note of command. Takashi altered his course to suit the directive, enjoying the sensation of the wheel sliding through his fingers as he turned his car.

"Arai won't like that."

"_Obviously. I have arranged for the two of you to meet at an obscure maid café in Shinjuku. I am aware that you dislike such places, but in this instance you will need to make the sacrifice."_

"Kyoya." Takashi made the name into an admonishment.

"_Don't 'Kyoya" me, Morinozuka. I will see you in twenty minutes, so please be prompt."_

Sighing gently, Takashi shifted gears and drove on.

He did not like Otori Group Headquarters. A skyscraper of improbable size, it encompassed eighty floors and housed hundreds of employees, including the famed private police force of the Otori family. The building had been exquisitely designed for the purposes of a business tycoon: lovely rectangular green glass windows on the face and black metal partitions made for an elegant, picturesque scene.

It was also a bodyguard's nightmare. There were exits at every cardinal and ordinal direction, multiple elevators and staircases, and an escape route Takashi knew must be only one of many Kyoya had installed since replacing his father as head of the family business. Unlike the satisfactory impediments of the U.S. Embassy, the security in this financial haven simply waved Takashi through negligently.

"I suspect that security will not be a problem now that I am in control of company affairs," Kyoya had said when Takashi mentioned his misgivings concerning the building's construction. "Of course, there will always be elements which are impossible to predict. That is why I hired you. Now, how is your dear mother? She has recovered from the cold she contracted last weekend?"

Kyoya Otori was a relatively tall man, though Takashi was mildly surprised when he realized his employer was shorter than his most recent charge by about two inches. Liam had seemed so small and defenseless, while Kyoya fairly reeked of power and confidence.

"Ah, there you are Mori. Punctual as always, despite my admittedly unreasonable demands on your time."

Kyoya did not rise when Takashi entered his office. Expensively simple furnishings in green and black decorated the expansive room. Though medical and law texts lined each wall, Takashi saw no sign that they had ever been disturbed, and heaven help the speck of dust that dared land on any volume Kyoya owned. A single laptop computer, a small, black notepad, and a pen were all that lay before the Chairman as he settled his chin on steepled fingers and examined Takashi. He had not changed overmuch since their shared high school years. His black hair was perhaps a shade longer, his glasses square rather than elliptical, the frames platinum-coated rather than silver. He remained boyishly slender, yet no longer appeared young. Apparent youth did not suit his purposes.

"Your meeting with the Texan went reasonably well, although I wish you had not laid out the terms so concisely. In the future, please ask the ambassador to submit his queries directly to me. That will save you a great deal of frustration, and I enjoy a good fence with the old fox anyway."

Takashi waited. Kyoya did not move, but something in the atmosphere of the room shifted.

"I read your report on the boy," he continued, just as if this should be news to Takashi, "and I have another unreasonable request. Allow me to explain fully before you accept or reject, if you will."

Takashi stood with both arms folded across his chest and listened as Kyoya outlined his plan.

"I know this is somewhat beyond the boundaries of your job description, but I think you have the necessary skills. Do you accept?"

"I'll do as you say," Takashi replied without a moment's thought.

"Very well then. I will let you know when to make the first move."

~*~

"Ugh, that was horrible!"

For some reason, Mia looked flushed when I turned to vent my frustration in her direction. She took out a pretty little gilded fan and used it to waft cool air toward her face.

"Oh I don't think it was all that bad. Commander Morinozuka was quite kind."

I allowed myself a glare. "I got nowhere with him. How am I supposed to do my job if he just stands there like a lump and _looms_ all over everything? The man's a robot! A giant robot!"

Mia snapped her fan shut with a sharp click and glared back. "He certainly is not. You haven't lived in Japan long, but the commander is a perfect example of the quiet, stoic Japanese gentleman. You don't often see his kind around anymore, and he makes a pleasant change from those mouthy Diet Representatives."

"Easy enough for you to say. You don't have to explain to Mr. Robertson that you couldn't even get the tiniest concession he wanted!"

"You weren't supposed to win any."

"Eventually I managed to keep from leaping out of my skin when surprised from behind. At that point, however, I had not mastered the skill. Ambassador Robertson laughed at my reaction and handed a stack of papers to Mia.

"As I was saying, you were never intended to make headway with Morinozuka. I was just testing him." He paused and thought for a moment before adding, "Though it would have been nice to get rid of these bruisers, even for a short time."

He jerked a thumb toward each of the two large men who stood at his back. They pretended not to notice.

"Thank you for being so frank, Mr. Ambassador," I said bitterly. He put a hand on my arm to lend what he must have thought was comfort. I was mollified, but only slightly.

"Please don't take it personally, Liam. If I took the time to explain every political nuance to my staff before I deploy it, I would never get any work done."

"I suppose that's true."

He raised a ginger eyebrow at me. "I assure you, it is. Now let's get going. I think our negotiations with Kawamura-san are finally drawing to a close!"

* * *

A/N: Happy New Year!


End file.
